


Moscow on the Colorado

by louciferish



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Austin - Freeform, Concerts, Drinking, Established Relationship, M/M, queso and pancakes, the austin experience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-10 21:35:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18668830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louciferish/pseuds/louciferish
Summary: Victor is all too willing as Yuuri tugs him through the bar, past the card table selling CDs and t-shirts, and out onto the streets of Austin. It’s a different world from the city they’d seen in daylight.Darkness has cooled the afternoon swelter, although heat still rises through the soles of their shoes as they cross the black pavement. The street around them has been closed to cars, and now it’s filled with young people, displaying clothes and bodies like bowerbirds strutting for prospective mates. There’s laughter, and the sound of many people talking just a bit too loudly, unselfconscious as they air their drama to the world.





	Moscow on the Colorado

**Author's Note:**

> This piece appeared in the "Uchi" edition of the Okaeri home zine. 
> 
> When I think about home, I think less about the places I've lived and more about a sense of belonging. For me, oddly, that brings up memories of late nights in bars and concerts, sticking my feet out a car window as my friends and I sing along to stupid music on our way to get drunk food. So for my story, I wanted to try to capture both that experience and the feeling. 
> 
> Hopefully a bit of that comes through here.

Victor traces his fingertips over the words etched into the wooden bar top—initials, sharpied over in bright colors and then smeared and soaked by a great many splashes of alcohol and ice. The bartender has her back to him still, working her magic among the bottles, and his attention turns to the tattoo that covers her forearm with a cluster of shaded black and white bubbles. It’s an unusual choice, and he can’t help but wonder what it means, if anything at all.

She turns back to him with two glasses in her hands, full to overflowing with magenta liquor, and he can see the tip of the Texas panhandle peeking out from the deep V-neck of her too-tight shirt. Her mouth is moving, but Victor can’t make out the words over the pounding bass of the band on stage behind him. He pulls out his wallet and hands her a ten dollar bill, and she turns back to the register. It may be overkill, but he shoves a handful of bills into the tip jar before picking up the drinks.

It’s impossible to spot Yuuri through the throng of bodies between the bar and the stage, but Victor knows they were near the front. He raises the drinks up over his head and begins to make his way through the crowd, swiveling his hips and murmuring apologies—inaudible over the singer’s crooning—as he slips between the strangers until he can see his love among the masses. 

Yuuri’s made his own little space near the stage, somewhat free of the press of sweaty bodies as he dances, writhing as if no one is watching. His white shirt is stuck to his back, translucent in the heat of the venue, and his black hair clings to his neck in little spikes where it’s beginning to grow out. 

He tilts his head back, raising an arm in a gesture reminiscent of _Eros_. His hips sway side to side as he moves in the same way that hypnotized Victor from the first time they danced together. 

Victor stops in the crowd, lingering for a moment to appreciate his lover’s body. 

But, if he’s watching, then others are as well. Yuuri may be blissfully unaware of the eyes on him, but Victor is not. Jealousy seizes his heart with its fist and squeezes, driving him forward through the crowd. He knows it’s petty—Yuuri would never want anyone else—but he’s eager to return to his love’s side and make that especially clear.

He reaches Yuuri just as the band breaks between songs, squirting water into their mouths before downing shots passed up to them from the crowd. Victor places his drinks on the edge of the stage, behind one of the monitors, and winds his arm around Yuuri’s slim waist, pressing himself against Yuuri’s back as the guitarist plucks out the opening notes of the next song.

Yuuri stiffens against him, then relaxes as he recognizes his husband’s body, leaning into Victor’s touch. His head lolls back to rest on Victor’s shoulder, and Victor can’t resist kissing the slick skin of his exposed throat. He licks the salt from his lips. _Damn._ He should have gotten body shots.

Yuuri is languid against him, but as his hips continue to sway lazily, Victor’s fingers find the belt loops on his painted-on jeans and take hold. 

On stage, the lead singer is howling now. She stomps her feet along with the pounding of drums and bass, a whirlwind of dark hair, chiffon, and leather. As Victor watches, she leaps up, catching the rafters of the bar with one hand to swing out, dangling above the crowd. 

The audience surges to reach for her, and Victor stumbles forward at the push, wrapping his arms more tightly around Yuuri for support. It’s inevitable, this close, that he catches the rhythm of Yuuri’s body, swaying against him with the beat. 

Yuuri passes Victor his drink and then picks up his own, and from there it’s all too easy to get lost, moving lazily amidst the frenzied crowd and the overlapping scents of sweat, smoke, and the burn of cheap alcohol sloshing out of glasses to rinse the sticky floors of the venue.

The songs blend together at the edges, stretching into symphony, and then—it’s over. The band waves to the crowd and, one by one, they hop off the edge of the stage. As the people surrounding them begin to disperse, Victor doesn’t budge, his arms still locked around Yuuri, face buried in his husband’s hair.

Yuuri squirms in his arms after a moment, and Victor reluctantly lets go. When Yuuri turns to him, his cheeks are still flushed from the heat and the alcohol, and he presses a messy kiss to Victor’s lips. He laughs as he pulls away, an unrestrained sound of happiness that’s not quite a drunken giggle, and he links their hands, fingers intertwined.

Victor is all too willing as Yuuri tugs him through the bar, past the card table selling CDs and t-shirts, and out onto the streets of Austin. It’s a different world from the city they’d seen in daylight. Darkness has cooled the afternoon swelter, although heat still rises through the soles of their shoes as they cross the black pavement. The street around them has been closed to cars, and now it’s filled with young people, displaying clothes and bodies like bowerbirds strutting for prospective mates. There’s laughter, and the sound of many people talking just a bit too loudly, unselfconscious as they air their drama to the world.

He drops Yuuri’s hand to throw an arm across his shoulders as they stroll down the wide street. High above them, the city is lit up for the night, and the jagged peaks of the unmistakable bank tower draw his eye. Yuuri stumbles against him and fists the fabric of Victor’s button-down in his free hand. His brown eyes are a little glassy, distracted, and Victor’s own head is pleasantly fuzzy. They should get back to their hotel.

What was the name of it again?

“I’m hungry,” Yuuri pouts, breaking his concentration. Now that he mentions it, food sounds like the _best_ idea—much better than some boring old hotel. There’s a small cluster of food trucks on a nearby corner, and the smells of frying grease and smoked meats are tempting, as is the little storefront selling pizza by the slice and blasting heavy metal music onto the street. Yurio would love that one. But Victor is still sober enough to know that food from a cart is always a bit of a risk.

He tucks Yuuri closer against his side and says, “Well, we’ll find food, then.”

He picks a direction and starts walking, and he doesn’t stop until they find vehicle traffic again. He spots the bright yellow paint and lights of a taxi cab and raises a hand, waving the available car until it pulls over to the curb right in front of them. 

Victor opens the car door for Yuuri to tumble inside, pretending quite well that he’s holding the door to be a gentleman while he watches Yuuri’s butt sway as he crawls along the bench seat.

“Where to?” the driver asks, tilting his head back to check the two of them out through the rearview mirror.

Victor still can’t remember the name of their hotel, but that’s a problem for later. “We’re hungry visitors,” he says. “Is there anything good open now?”

The cab driver chuckles, and Victor sees the white of his teeth flash in the reflection. “I’ve got just the place. It’s an Austin tradition.”

“Perfect.” Victor scoots into the middle seat and buckles in, then helps Yuuri fumble with the click of his own seatbelt as the car pulls out into traffic.

There’s something both soothing and mesmerizing about riding through the streets of a new city at night. Victor leans closer to Yuuri, craning his neck in order to watch out the window as the car accelerates up the ramp to the highway. The bright lights of the city around them block out the stars, leaving nothing but the flat darkness of a wide open sky above. At a distance, everything seems more foreign, and Victor finds himself pondering aliens and unknown civilizations.

Yuuri’s head droops a few times, then lands heavy on Victor’s shoulder as he dozes off, lulled to sleep by the alcohol in his blood and the white noise of wheels on pavement. He’s warm and soft, and it would take a much stronger man than Victor to resist the temptation to cuddle up and close his own eyes.

Victor makes no effort to resist at all.

It feels like only a few seconds later that the car comes to a stop, jolting Victor back from his nap. Yuuri stirs against him, blinking the blanket of sleep away.

“We’re here,” the taxi driver announces. “Ya’ll have a good night—well, morning.”

Victor thanks him and pays the fare in cash, tipping what’s probably more than adequate, then slides out of the car before reaching in for Yuuri’s hands, guiding him out into the parking lot. The cafe beside them is brightly lit and bustling despite the late hour, and the catchy eighties music playing on the patio echoes in the otherwise empty streets.

With Yuuri still leaning on him a bit, Victor slips one hand into Yuuri’s back pocket to support him as they walk to the door. Inside, the cafe smells of coffee and spice. A smiling waitress leads them to a booth right away, past other tables milling with busy students, bleary-eyed late shift workers, and small clusters of loud drunks.

They settle in side by side and begin to pour over the menu.

“Breakfast all day,” Yuuri murmurs as one would a prayer. “Eggs. Bacon. _Pancakes_.”

Oh, yes. Victor’s stomach feels like an open pit. The only thing that could possibly satisfy him now would need to be greasy, or maybe something sweet. Hmmm… greasy? Or sweet?

The waitress comes back to their table with two huge glasses of ice water. “Are you boys ready, or do you need a minute?”

“I want it all,” Yuuri says into Victor’s shoulder.

“Fair. I can’t decide either.” Victor looks up at the waitress, plastering on his photoshoot smile. “What would you suggest?”

“Pretty much everything, but we’re most famous for our queso and pancakes.”

“One queso, then,” Victor says, “Plus coffees and… gingerbread pancakes, please.” He snaps the menu shut and hands it to the waitress, who vanishes back to the kitchen.

As they wait for their food to arrive, Yuuri slowly lists sideways to rest on Victor’s shoulder again. The combination of the drinking, excitement, and jet lag are taking their toll, but Victor still feels alert. 

A group of drunk twenty-somethings stagger in and sit at the table next to them, proclaiming their love for Austin with no regard for the volume of their voices. As Victor watches, another table shouts their agreement, and the two groups begin to chat and mingle, with folks from each table getting up, trading spots with each other in a stumbling, complex game of musical chairs that ends with a couple people settling for laps in a way that seems not at all accidental.

The waitress reappears with a tray and begins to lay out their food—a little pan of melted cheese mixed with avocado, chips, coffee, and finally a short stack of richly spiced pancakes the size of Makkachin’s face. When the waitress slides the syrup onto the table, Yuuri wakes up. Victor can almost see his nose twitching.

“That looks amazing,” Yuuri gasps, picking up his fork to go in for the kill before Victor even has a chance to add butter. The look of pure, reverent adoration on his face as he takes the first bite sparks another stab of jealousy. 

Perfect. Now Victor is jealous of food—again.

Once he manages to steal some for himself, though, he changes his mind. Yuuri is right. This stuff deserves worship. The combination of the sweet, spiced cakes and the salty melted cheese is the perfect thing to satisfy his rumbling stomach after a night out. Both of them fall on the food in earnest, though they keep their free hands intertwined under the table.

The group at the next table has calmed now, focusing on their own food. On the wall above their heads is a framed photo of graffiti, the red spray paint cursive scrawl of _i love you so much_.

Victor can see why this city is so popular, drawing young people like moths to a neon light, but Yuuri’s hand warm in his own is an anchor. Halfway across the world, there’s a special place waiting for him—quiet and private and filled with the life he’s lived and the one he loves. This city is fun, vibrant, inviting, but he wouldn’t trade anything for what he’s already built.

He turns to smile at Yuuri, who returns it—fond, a bit wobbly, and smeared with sticky syrup at the corners of his lips. They sit there together, sharing the moment along with the food, and then Yuuri’s smile begins to drop away, concern creeping into his eyes.

“Victor,” he says. “Can you remember the name of the hotel?”

They’ll figure something out.

**Author's Note:**

> While I didn't name names, a few of the locations in this are real places in Austin.
> 
> The concert takes place at [Dirty Dog Bar](https://www.dirtydogbar.com/), the metal music pizza place Victor mentions is of course [Hoek's Death Metal Pizza](https://www.yelp.com/biz/hoeks-death-metal-pizza-austin), and obviously the only place you go in Austin for 2 AM queso and pancakes is [Kerbey Lane Cafe](https://kerbeylanecafe.com/), which is a mandatory part of any Austin experience.
> 
> Meanwhile, you can find me on [Tumblr](https://louciferish.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/louciferish).


End file.
